Love Letter 213 I Cannot Promise What I Say is True

I have nothing to say to you.

having lost the art of french,

hindi, silence

having lost the art of weaving my fingers into a prayer to animate for you

having lost the art

of bending

into fertile ground

or glimpses of heaven

in fact, I left the oven on

heating the whole house

so hot

so I could lose my coolness

or any protection I had against discomfort

then I disrobed

and ran into a spin, so violent

the whole house shook into ash

but as I was doing this

one thing kept happening

all I had lost came back

in multiples

my shirt and socks

the things I had always wanted to say

the beads of scripture implanted in my heart

but still

even naked,

with everything at my feet

nothing lost

all of it gained back, abundant

I shrugged my shoulders

what was it

to perform

these arts

anyway?

what is it

to give you

what has already been given

you a million times a million

an infinite number of times?

my heart began to murmur

and I had nothing to do with it

I donated everything to silence

I stopped trying to say

anything

with my mouth, hands, body and eyes

I began shivering in

the cold dark mess

of misjudging

what was necessary

to You

I let alone

all this singleness

of thinking

I let alone

all this hatred for triumph and trying

I let alone victory

and resolution

I let alone You

so I could fall back

on something

greater

than myself

I stopped putting my inventions to the test,

stopped trying to be pragmatic

or imaginative

stopped trying to be a genius

jumping up and down for honorary mentions

I stopped trying

to get you to notice

what I had let go of,

how I had improved,

what I had to offer,

how much better I could love you now.

I stopped trying to see you

from inside

my shit hole

of content

or discontent

my ornery oasis

my funhouse

of apathetic mirrors and apologetic abstinence

my advice for a better life, a new film about positives

I stopped trying new positions

and set aside old ones

in fact. I stopped moving

and I stopped staying still

I let go of all commitments. all commandments

and anything else that felt shallow, used and rehearsed

I let go of sunrise

and death

and the idea of eating upon waking

I let go of sleep

and hanging around

and checking my mail

and then I stopped letting go

why not?

it seemed, I had become too familiar with that act too

I stopped wanting to be an artist

I stopped wanting to be good at everything

I stopped being convinced I was a failure

I stopped struggling with what it means to fail

I stopped trying to get in touch

with who I thought you were

I left you alone

then

Surprise

You showed up

and I said

nothing

did nothing

I was full on naked

and useless

but not in any shocking or soulful way

and you put Your arms around me

You carried me out

to the sunshine

You poured kerosene

on my whole body

and asked me, what now, should you do?

I put my hand out

and You joined me

and we lay there together

laughing and rolling around

soaking wet

but it was a hot day

so hot

that

!!!!!!!!!

...well

you were there!

We burst into flames

not like I had pictured once

but

real terrific flames of laughter

jubilees really

and people came

to us

with their marshmallows

and cold fingers

rubbing them against our halos

and they pulled up chairs

some of them soldering things broken, into cosmic cornucopias and living 3 dimensional Renoirs

the whole neighborhood made violins and tambourines out of burning debris, our wrists and limbs, those beautiful eyelashes I love of yours

and made a band

the organic automatic they called it

and played well on

into the week

month

year

An entire celebration

started by our fire

oh!!!

had I thought of it sooner

it never would have been this fun!